The Lilac Dress
by Vinyaya
Summary: Hermione's feelings when she has to modify her parents memories, and her feelings for Ron when she goes to the Burrow afterwards. Emotional range of a teaspoon... I think not!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I have nothing to declare (means I own nothing).

THE LILAC DRESS

Memory Charms weren't everybody's cup of tea. There were types, of course, which could be performed by most people, like the simple 'Obliviate' that Lockhart had been proficient at. It got harder as you got more and more precise, the clearer and more stark you tried to make the line between the chunk of memory that had been wiped and the parts which hadn't.

And then there was the difficult process of reversing the charm; a reversible charm was even harder to cast, and recalling wiped memory without causing permanent brain damage was a tedious process that could only be performed by highly skilled wizards with specializations in that particular field. Unless you were Hermione Granger, that is.

She'd read it all up, you could almost say she was confident. She definitely would have been, if it wasn't her parents she was going to have to cast the spell on soon.

The door creaked open, and a pretty middle aged woman with flyaway hair stuck her face into the room.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Mum?"

"You've been shut up in your room all morning, dear. Is there anything...?"

"I'm quite all right, Mum."

Her mother, looking concerned, entered the room, and seated herself upon the bed.

"Dear, is this about your friend Ron again?"

It was a way out, an opportunity to explain away her preoccupation, so Hermione, never one to miss heaven-sent chances, took it.

"Well... yes, Mum..."

"Oh, darling," said Mrs. Granger, threading her fingers through her daughter's bushy brown hair affectionately. "I'm sure he likes you, you know. No boy writes to any girl, best friend or not, the amount he's written to you over the summer, unless they like that girl."

Hermione allowed herself a grin. It was true; ever since the Incident of the Bezoar, she and Ron had been growing ever-increasingly closer. He made no effort to hide his fierce protectiveness of her any longer; nor did he try to hurt her or make her jealous any more. Coming that dangerously close to death had changed Ron somewhat... he was more mature on many levels, no doubt about it. He wasn't and awkward gangly teenage boy anymore, but a young man who had grown to fit his skin. Yet, he was still Ron, the same old funny, self-deprecating, witty individual who had managed to keep Hermione's heart with himself for so long.

"Yes, Mum, Ron. He's such a git sometimes,"

Mrs Granger smiled a wicked smile of the sort that sometimes graced Hermione's own face. It looked strangely fitting on both countenances, although if you hadn't seen them at it, you wouldn't be able to imagine either of them looking like that.

"They're all gits sometimes. What, is he having the usual trouble asking you out?"

Hermione would never understand how her Mum knew so much about her tangled excuse for a love life. She knew better than to ask, although sometimes she wondered whether her mum was part witch, and, if so, whether she had seer tendencies.

Mrs. Granger appeared to be deep in thought.

"There's the wedding you still have to attend, isn't there?" she asked, apparently forming a plan in her mind.

"Yeah, his brother Bill's, I told you--"

"Yes. Well, weddings are occasions when you can dress up... dance, and all that, you know?"

"It would take several million You-Know-Whos to get him to pluck up the courage to ask me to dance, Mum," said Hermione drily.

"Not if you look so pretty he can't think straight," said Mrs. Granger grimly, getting up. "I have something you might like... it was what I wore to my best friend's wedding, where I met your father for the first time."

She was out of the room before Hermione could say 'bezoar'.

Hermione looked back at _Mind Games: Charms to alter mindstate_. She's miss her, she knew. She'd miss the feel of her fingers in her hair, and her soft voice most people knew not to judge her by. But Hermione was brave, and she knew this step was necessary. Worry would only slow her down while hunting for the Horcruxes. This way, they'd be safe, and they'd be happy. even if she never saw them again, it would ENSURE their safety and happiness. It. Was. Necessary. Unlike, for instance, the tears that were threatening to fall from her brown eyes, eyes that she'd managed to keep glazed over with a completely blank expression for the entirety of the holidays before this.

Mrs. Granger strode back into the room; Hermione blinked fiercely. Making sure her eyes were as dry as she could make them, she looked up at her mother, trying to take in every last detail, just in case she never saw her again. Mrs. Granger was holding a bundle of lilac cloth, which she now shook out and lay on the bed.  
"There. It's a bit old fashioned, but I daresay you can modernize it with respect to today's witch fahions, or whatever, with your wand there, now that you're of wizarding age, eh?" she smiled at her daughter, and Hermione tried to think of anything other than the horrible-- BUT NECESSARY-- task that awaited her. She cast her mind around, and it landed on shoes... her mother's favourite pair, strappy, and with heels three inches tall. Mrs. Granger had bought them at a sale five years ago, they had become her signature footwear since then. To think of Hermione's mum was to think of a pair of dainty feet in their strappy, heeley sandals, clip-clopping into the house after a busy day of performing root canals.

"Mum, d'you think I can borrow your shoes for the wedding too? The three inch heel sandals?"

Mrs. Granger looked at her sternly, but her look melted, and she said, "Well, just this once. After which I want them back immediately. Intact."

"Yes, Mum,"

Hermione got off her bed and flung her arms around her mother. Mrs. Granger hugged her back.

"I love you, Mum." whispered Hermione, giving way to a tear or two. "Try not to forget that,"

"Of course not, dear. I love you too."

After all, safety was necessary, but so was love, and affection, and family, and that was what she, Hermione, was fighting for.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

"Your name is Wendell Wilkins... you are an employee in an export company..." Hermione waved her wand in front of her fathers face, reeling off the finer points of the story she'd made up for her parents. She had modified their memories first, and confunded them when the all-too-familiar blank look appeared on their faces. She had already fed the fake story to her mother, who was sitting in the bedroom, digesting it. "You have always wanted to live in Australia, and now you have enough money to do that. This," she handed him a slip of paper, "Is your bank account number. And these," she handed him the objects she had so carefully transfomed that nobody would know they were fake, "are your passports. You had a lot of trouble getting them at the passport office, but now you've finally got them. Your bags are packed. You plan to leave tonight. Here," she finally handed him the last pair of objects, the only things out of the lot that were not magically counterfeited... of course, she had _bought _them with fake Muggle money, "Are your tickets. Australia via Djakarta. You will not get off at Djakarta. And..." Hermione struggled to retain control over herself. "And you will take the utmost care of your wife, Monica. After all, she's all you've got... you've never had any children, you see."

Putting her wand back in her robes, Hermione hurriedly picked up her small beaded bag, whispered "Goodbye," and made herself scarce. She had to get out of there before they registered her presence, otherwise the whole plan would have been for nothing.

She ran out of the front door, and stood outside the kitchen window. She had to make sure her charms had been effective enough. One stray memory and the whole thing could come crashing down...

She inserted an extendable ear into the room. There was no sound; she assumed they were still assimilating to their new memories. She had been careful not to leave anything behind to show that she had ever existed. Most of the things in her room had been Vanished, and the things that she had left untouched were the sort you'd find in any guest room.

Afew minutes passed; Hemione grew edgy. What was happening? Had she overdone the Memory Charm? What if there had been brain damage?

She hadn't asked for help from the Order of the Phoenix. In fact, she hadn't told anybody a thing about her plans. She knew what would have happened if she had; the Order would have taken them away and kept them in hiding, like they'd done with the Dursleys. They wouldn't, however, have _dreamed_ of modifying their memories. But Hermione wasn't at all sure that she'd escape unscathed from this war, and she hadn't wanted them to be unhappy if she died. Sometimes she felt they almost regretted sending her to Hogwarts, and she didn't want them to hate the wizarding world forever; God knows it had been the one place she'd ever belonged...

She heard something.

"Monica? Monica, are you in there?"

Footsteps, the sound of a door opening.

"Monica? God heavens, what _are _you doing, staring into space like that?"

"Oh, nothing, Wendell. I just had the strangest dream..."

"Oh. Well, I suppose we're all packed? We have to leave in the next couple of hours, you know."

"We're packed. Stop fussing."

"Right. I only want to make sure we're ready, Monica. This our dream, you know, and now it's finally happening. I don't want it to go wrong."

"You're right, I'm sorry. It _is_ our dream... speaking of which, I had this funny dream too, a minute ago."

"What was it?"

"We had a daughter... not a baby, either, a seventeen year old daughter... the details are slipping away now, but I think she could do magic..."

"How odd,"

"Yes, it was, wasn't it? We've never had any children."

There were sounds of hustling and bustling, and Hermione knew they were finishing off the last bits of 'packing'. Brushing away a lone tear, she disapparated, satisfied with her work.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I still don't own it, and am likely never to do so.

CHAPTER 3

Ron had told her, in a letter, that the Burrow was the new Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione wasn't looking forward to meeting several Order Members all at once, and pretending to be glad to see them when she felt so torn up inside, but she knew she'd have to. She still wasn't planning on telling anybody what she'd done; Molly Weasley, she knew, wouldn't approve one bit. Neither would Kingsley, who'd probably keep telling her that she should've contacted him for help instead of taking matters into her own headstrong hands. Families were meant to stick together, they'd say, alienating them would be of no use. It was easy to talk, of course, but when all was said and done, none of them really knew what a difficult thing being Muggleborn was. Hermione could hardly tell her parents much about her subjects and her studies, or the Dark Lord and how Harry had to fight him. She didn't even want to tell them about that last bit, it would only worry them. That's why she'd been so happy to be chosen as Gryffindor Prefect. Houses and Prefect Posts were something you had in most schools, even Muggle ones. Hermione struggled with herself not to burst into tears once again, as she remembered how her parents had congratulated her, and asked her whether the rest of Gryffindor looked up to her now. She could picture her Dad's devilish grin as he asked her how it felt to mete out a detention or two.

"Shut up, Hermione." she told herself sternly. "They're better off now, and so are you. Once the war's over, you can go back to them and set them right. Till then, they won't have to worry. It's perfect." Face set, she raised her wand and performed a Cheering Charm on herself before walking up to the front door of The Burrow (she hadn't been able to apparate right in, because of the new wards) and ringing the bell.

"Who is it?" called out a low voice, presumeably Molly Weasley's.

"It's me, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley."

"What colour is Ginny's Pygmy Puff?"

"Lime green," Hermione whispered back.

The door opened, creaking a little, like all the doors in the Weasley household always did. Mrs. Weasley pulled her in by the arm and flung her arms around her.

"Oh, Hermione, we were just beginning to get worried!" she said breathlessly.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione. "I just had to explain a few things to my parents before leaving."

"Oh, it's quite all right, dear. Of course we understand." Mrs. Weasley ushered her into the kitchen. "We saved some mushroom soup for you, it'll be cold now though... here, wait a minute, I'll just heat it up, shall I?" She began to bustle about the kitchen, asking questions while she lit the stove with her wand and sat the saucepan of soup on top of it.

"So how is Ellen, dear? The last time I saw her, she had that awful chill... I suppose she's feeling quite all right now? I don't know... Muggle medicines..."

"Mum's quite fine now, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione weakly. "She recovered just a few days after you saw her, actually."

"Well then, that's good, isn't it?" siad Mrs. Weasley, pouring the soup from the pan into a bowl. "And what about Kenneth? Arthur's simply _dying_ to meet him again, ever since he heard that you father uses _drills_, whatever they may be..."

Hermione gave her a watery smile. "Well, this may shock you," she said, "But drills, at least the kind my father uses, are for making little holes in teeth."

"Gracious!" said Mrs. Weasley as she set the soup down before Hermione. "Why would anybody want to have hole made in their teeth? It sounds quite revolting!"

"It is, rather."

"Oi, you've arrived, and you didn't even say a word!"

Ron stood at the entrance of the kitchen, complete with carrot red hair and a million and one freckles. His ears looked a little rosy too, and Hermione thought she might know why. She leapt up from her seat impulsively and threw her arms around Ron, burying her face into his chest. Her heart soared as she felt Ron hug her back just as, if not more, tightly as she was holding him.

"Thanks for all those letters you sent," she told him. "They were very... um... they helped a lot, you know?"

"I don't, but I'll take your word for it," he chucked as she let go of him. Hermione caught sight of Mrs. Weasley beaming at the two of them and blushed.

"I'll just go see if Ginny's room is ready for you, Hermione," she said, and with a knowing smirk, she walked out of the room. Hermione started on her soup. She could feel Ron's eyes on her, so she looked up at him.

"What?"

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" his voice was serious, and his eyes had darkened a little. He could still make her disconcerted by how well he could read her mind, and after the poisoning incident last year, when they'd got really close, he'd stopped makin any attempts to hide it. He'd also stopped looking away when she caught him staring at her, choosing instead to simply keep looking at her looking at him, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Hermione didn't know how it made her feel, it was somewhere between embarrassed and delighted.

"No. Everything's OK, Ron," she said, her voice as light and airy as she could make it. "Apart from the war and everything, of course..."

"If you say so." Ron said, looking away. "By the way," he continued, still not looking at her, "We have to go and collect Harry from his relatives the day after tomorrow."

"Really? But I thought Mad-Eye was going to go over with his cloak and slide him along back here!"

"Yes, that _was_ the plan," said Ron, "But the ministry's infiltrated now, isn't it? They can tell what Harry's doing, he still has the Trace on him. So we're all going to go over... a whole lot of us, mind, and become decoy Harrys with Polyjuice Potion. That way we can confuse any Death Eaters that might be around until we get Harry into the relative safety of a warded portkey station."

It was words like "relative safety" that made Hermione realize, again and again, how much Ron had grown up, and the realization always gave her a little thrill. Impulsively, the moment she finished her soup, she put her arms around him again, this time a little loose, but nonetheless just as affectionate.

"I'm so GLAD to see you again, Ron." she told him.

"I'm really gald to see you too, Hermione, said Ron, and his voice cracked a little on her name. Hemione smiled, and thought of her mother's lilac dress, the one that was supposed to make Ron forget everything for a minute, except that he loved her, Hermione, with all his heart. She didn't know he already could hardly think about anything else.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Nope, still, somehow, I do not own it! gasps

CHAPTER 3

The next day was uneventful for the most part. Hermione rose early, as always, and helped Mrs. Weasley around the house. Ginny had been delighted to see her the previous night, but in the morning Hermione noticed that she wasn't as upbeat and lively as usual. She thought she could guess why, too. Harry had told her, Hermione, in a letter that he would not be writing to Ginny too much, he didn't want to have her connected to him in any way at all, in case the Death Eaters picked up on it and used her against him. He was pretty sure that if the Death Eaters got hold of Ginny, he wouldn't be able to continue fighting. He didn't say it in so many words, of course; it would have been suspiciously unlike Harry to have done so. But Hermione, as Harry had often said himself, was a 'smart girl'. She knew things without having to be told.

Hermione smiled to herself as she thought of Harry. They'd been best friends since the first year, and she prided herself on knowing the Boy Who Lived better than anyone else, even Ron and Ginny. As she had often said to more people than she could remember, you couldn't NOT love Harry. He was so unassuming and kind and altogether not how you'd expect a famous kid to be. Hermione hadn't told him this for fear of embarrassing him (Harry was often embarrassed by emotional displays, it was hard enough to get him to hug her back whenever she threw her arms around him during goodbyes or whatever), but she would never forget the consideration he had shown for her last year, when Ron was being a berk and Hermione had to keep running off into loos so she could cry in peace.

Hermione sighed. Ron. She didn't know what to make of him sometimes. He watched her and stood up for her and comforted her and complimented her, and she felt herself growing more and more in love with him. He'd tug at a lock of her hair affectionately when he came to sit next to her, tell her she was probably the smartest person in the universe, and in general, behave in a very un-Ronlike way. Every so often he would simply hold her hand, and such demonstrative behaviour from Ron wasn't something Hermione had prepared herself for. She found herself blushing more than usual, and there were times she wouldn't know what to say to his compliments, and would actually stutter. Hermione Granger, who'd had a vocabulary of 3000 words by the time she was two years old!

And then again, there were moments Ron would distance himself, withdraw from her and not speak except for in monosyllables. Hermione noticed that this usually happened when she tried to talk about Harry, maybe Ron was more worried about his best mate than he let on.

That evening after dinner, Hermione and Ginny began one of their talks. They had been very good friends ever since the first time Hermione had come to stay with the Weasleys, and Ginny was probably the only person Hermione could talk to about boys and clothes and other girly things. Life with two boys could get hard, they were very thick when it came to certain things. Of course, of late, all they would talk about were the two best friends in question, themselves, Harry and Ron.

"I wish I could hate him,"

Hermione nearly laughed. "What for? Because he wants to protect you?"

"I don't know. Maybe just so that it wouldn't hurt so much."

"Ginny, if you think you're hurting, how do you think Harry's feeling right about now? You were the best thing that ever happened to him, and he had to give you up!"

"Then why did he break up with me?" said Ginny, looking at Hermione, dispair evident in both her face and her voice. "Does he think I can't fight? That I'm inept or something?"

"NO, you idiot, he doesn't think that. My God! He's just worried that You-Know-Who might get you, and if he does, Harry'll completely give up and won't be able to save the rest of us! So, in essence, the fate of the wizarding world rests on your shoulders, Ginny."

Ginny laughed sadly. "I just miss him so much... Its just torture to br given something you've wanted all your life, for a month or two, and then have it taken away again."

"But that hasn't happened!" Hermione said earnestly. "You wanted Harry to love you, and he does. More than you know, probably."

Ginny grinned weakly at her. "What would I do without you, Hermione?" she said. "Now you tell me about what's been happening with _you_. My idiot brother acting any less moronic lately?"

"Well, yeah..." said Hermione, blushing. "He's being rather... well, I think he's been _flirting_ with me a bit."

Ginny hooted with laughter. "Ahahahhha... Ron... _flirting_... I have to see this!!"

"He's not even too bad at it," mumbled Hermione. Ginny looked at her, mouth open in surprise.

"Ron? Our Ronniekins? Good at flirting? Are we sure this isn't anybody under Polyjuice Potion? Ron couln't flirt effectively with a garden gnome! Oh WAIT!" She thumped a pillow, apparently she was experiencing an epiphany. "That book!"

"What book?" Hermione said, confused.

"That book Fred and George gave him! Of _course_!!" Ginny slapped her forehead. "Of_ course_! I'm so stupid!" She dissolved into another fit of laughter, while Hermione looked on bemusedly. Finally Ginny gained control of herself. "Fred and George decided that Ron was being too thick to even amuse _them_ any longer, so the presented him with the newest paperback edition of _Twelve Fail-safe Ways to Charm Witches, _and I sneaked into his room to borrow a Martin Miggs comic, and saw it. Are you telling me it actually works?"

Hermone gasped, and then dissolved into giggles herself. "He's using a _book_ to try to charm _me_? Who would've ever thought..."

"Yeah, well, its common knowlege now that Ron is hideously, insanely in love with you, isn't it? And he thinks you'd never like a moron like him... I might've agreed, if I didn't know you do like him..."

"He really likes me that much?" Hermione wasn't being able to believe it. Ron could get anyone he wanted, and he wouldn't want a prissy bookworm like _her_. Not enough to try to read books that claimed they could help him, surely.

"God, Hermione, he's rubbing off on you, isn't he?" said Ginny in exasperation. "You never used to be this thick. You're all he thinks about. His days are spent waiting for the next time he gets to meet you, and he spends the time between your meetings writing to you or talking about you or thinking of you... yeah, I'd say he likes you that much."

Hermione felt herslf blushing again, she stomach was full of butterflies. "Well..." she said, and left off, having no words to describe how she felt. "What would I do without you, Ginny."

Ginny smiled back at her.

"So, how are your parents?"

Hermione felt her stomach drop out from her body; how could she have forgotten? Her parents must have reached Australia by now... and she was giggling because a boy liked her. She bit her lip; her Mum had been right about Ron, but now she couldn't tell her what a good guesser she was, couldn't introduce her to him. She could walk past a foot from them, and they wouldn't even recognise her.

"Hermione... what's wrong?" Ginny asked with concern. "Is everything all right?"

Hermione couldn't contain herself any longer. She spilled out everything about how she had modified her parents memories, and sent them far away to Australia.

"WHAT?" said Ginny, and her eyes flashed.

"What could I do, Ginny? They're not safe here, Ginny, you know that, I'm a muggleborn..."

"But modifying their memories? Hermione, you could have asked the Order for help! You could have had them go into hiding!"

"You don't understand! I... wanted them to be safe _and_ happy, so that if I.. if I die..." Hermione broke into sobs. Ginny gasped.

"If you die? Hermione, don't say that! Don't _ever _say that! Anyway, if you did die, they're going to be sad, safe or not. Unless..." Ginny's eyes widened. "They don't know they have a daughter, do they?" Hermione shook her head, her eyes full of anguished tears. "Oh, Hermione..."

"Hey, you two, do you mind? We're trying to get some sleep--" Ron had opened the door and entered unceremoniously. Now his eyes widened in shock and he flew to Hermione's side.

"What's the matter?" he asked in hushed tones. Ginny looked at Hermione, a question in her eyes. Hermione hesitated.

"Ron, I modified the minds of my parents."

A/N: Thank all of you who reveiwed, I love you all so much! I never expected... anyway, thanks so much! I hope you like this chapter as much as you did the earlier ones.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Nope.

CHAPTER 5

"You did WHAT?" Fred stepped into the room, closely followed by George. Hermione looked up in surprise; she hadn't seen them standing behind Ron. But of course, Ron must've meant them, when he'd been saying 'we're trying to sleep'. Ginny glared at the twins.

"Get out of my room, will you? This isn't the time to come traipsing in and annoying us."

Hermione was touched that Ginny was trying to get her brothers out of her room for her sake, she knew that the only reason Ginny was doing this was because she was worried that they mightn't be tactful enough, and say something that would make Hermione dissolve into tears again. However, Hermione was sure that she wouldn't, she'd had enough for a day.

"It's all right," she muttered to Ginny, who nodded and stopped ushering Fred and George out.

"So, are you going to elaborate on that little point there?" said George, sitting down on the chair nearest Hermione's bed, turning it around so he was straddling it.

"Yeah, don't keep us in the dark, Hermione," added Fred, looking around. Finding nowhere to sit, in one swift motion he uprooted Ron from the stool he was perched on, and seated himself. Ron glared at Fred, but was too worried about Hermione to do anything; instead he came and sat down beside her on her bed, Ginny sitting on her other side.

"Well, you know that, since I'm a Muggleborn, my parents and I are in imminent danger of Death Eater attacks..." began Hermione.

"Depraved lunatics," apparently Ron couldn't keep himself from muttering angrily.

"Yes, them. Well, I don't think they'll be taking over the rest of the world that very soon, they'll be concentrating on England at first, so I thought of the farthest place from here I could think of, which is probably Australia (although I couldn't be sure, I stopped learning geography when I started going to Hogwarts)--"

"Will you get on?" demanded Ron. "Honestly, worried about learning geography! Typical Hermione!"

"You be careful of her, Ron, she's got powers you wouldn't dream of," remarked Fred.

"Yeah, she's definitely the only person I know who can talk in brackets," commented George.

Hermione gave a small smile. "Anyway, Ron, you know how dangerous what we're going to do is, don't you? They don't even understand the Wizarding World too well. I just didn't want them to worry while I was gone... and in case... you know, in case, I die, they won't have anything to be sad about. They don't know they've got a daughter. It's reversible, anyway, so, if we _do_ manage to come back unscathed, I'll be able to bring their memories back..."

"_When _we come back, not _if,"_ said Ron firmly. "Don't talk about dying and stuff, Hermione, d'you really think I'd let anything happen to you?"

Hermione blushed, and waited for either Fred or George or both of them to make an inappropriate remark. But they were staring at her with their mouths wide open, evident admiration on both their faces.

"What?" she said suspiciously.

"You can do a reversible Memory Charm?" gaped George.

"Yeah... I think I did it correctly, anyway... gosh I _hope_ I did it correctly!"

Ron patted her hand. "Of course you did, you're the cleverest person I know! Don't worry, I'm sure if anybody can do it, it's you."

"Even _Mum _can't do a reversible Memory Charm... dunno about Dad..." Fred said seriously, still too shocked even to take the mickey out of Ron for his obvious attraction towards Hermione. "It's higher than Newt level, usually only crack Obliviator Teams know stuff like that... you get it out of a book, Hermione?"

"Where else?" enquired Hermione drily, and everybody grinned. Ron put an arm around her affectionately.

"Well, you'll be glad to know that we decided to use your idea about being sick at home to explain away my absence from school," Ron said.

"Really? But it was pretty weak, I thought..." began Hermione.

"Well, we took it a step or two ahead," grinned Ron. "Think you're steady enough to see?"

"See what? and Ron, just because I cried a little doesn't mean I'm an invalid now--"

"I didn't mean that," said Ron quickly. "Beleive me, anybody who wants to see this must have an iron constitution."

"He's not joking," put in Fred. "You make sure you're not going to puke before you see it."

"What?" said Hermione, growing more and more curious by the second.

"Right, lets show her, then," said Ron, and he got up. Fred and George followed suit.

"Not you, Ginny," said Ron, stopping Ginny mid-rise.

"What? Why?" demanded Ginny indignantly.

"You aren't supposed to know anything about anything," Ron told her firmly. "I can't help how much Hermione's told you, but that's all you're going to hear."

"Excuse me, Ron. I refuse to be sheilded from everything and whatnot, all right? I'll know whatever you know."

"Ginny," said George, looking apologetic, "We're sorry. But you're underage, and Mum would hex us into oblivion if we told you anything. Plus, Ron's not told us the whole story either, so it's not like--"

"I'm your sister, and I'm almost of age anyway!" yelled Ginny. Fred shushed her frantically.

"D'you want to get the whole family up here?"

"Well, I will if you don't--"

"Ginny," said Hermione. "I think they're right. Dumbledore told us not to tell anyone what we were supposed to do, and the less people know what's going to happen, the better."

"I already know you three are going off somewhere, I'm neither blind nor stupid," retorted Ginny stubbornly. I don't need you to teach me home-truths when lives are at stake and there's a war going on in which I want to help."

"Blimey, she can be as hard-headed as Mum when she likes!" said Fred, shaking his head. Ron looked at Hermione nervously.

"She knows as much and Fred and George do, though that isn't much. Reckon we should let her come along?" Hermione nodded.

"Might as well, if you're sure this won't give anything away about the you-know-whats."

Ron nodded while everybody else looked puzzled and bemused. Ron led them up the staircase past his little attic room, and Hermione realized that they were headed towards the even littler loft. She wondered if whatever it was, was hidden there.

"Brace yourselves," said Ron, and pulled open the door to the loft. A dank smell hit Hermione, and as her eyes adjusted to the pitch black interior, she saw the Weasley ghoul basking near a pipe. It appeared to have hair, which was wrong for a ghoul, and also seemed to have clothes on. Looking closer, she saw a number of blemishes sticking out of its pasty face.

"Eeeeks." she said. "Whatever is in here that you want to show me, Ron?"

"That!" said Ron, looking impatient. "The ghoul! He's supposed to be me with spatergroit!"

"What?" said Hermione, and quite suddenly collapsed into a fit of giggles. "Sp-Spattergroit?"

Ron glared at her, he could tell she was remembering the incident at St. Mungo's a year or two ago.

"Yes, ha ha," ha said. "Anyway, when we're gone, he'll be taking my place. The Death Eaters wont go too near him, they'll be to scrared of getting infected. The red hair and the pyjamas will be enough to disguise him."

"We did the pustules," said George in a proud voice. "didn't we, Fred?"

"Yeah, we tried to get them to spell out F-U-"

"But Dad caught us,"

Hemione laughed even harded; even Ron grinned a little.

"Right," he said, as they started making their way downstairs again, "By the way, Hermione, brace yourself for a barrage of questions from Mum about where we're off to, she's been trying to pry it out of me all holiday."

"Okay," said Hermione as they parted ways for their respective rooms.

Once she and Ginny were back in Ginny's bedroom, Hermione said, "You'll see Harry again tomorrow,"

"Yeah, but what use will it be?" asked Ginny dully, before turning off the light and curling up. Hermione felt sorry for her. However, that that couldn't keep her from how happy she was to think she'd be seeing Harry again tomorrow, and that this would be the first time he'd be completely free of his horrible relatives, forever. She cuddled into her own soft blankets and went to sleep.

A/N: Thank you, everybody who wrote reveiws, as usual I'm much obliged!! I rushed to write this chapter as fast as I could.

I've realised I'm really pro Harry/Hermione friendship, its one of the sweetest things in the books.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you did the ones before this, and as always, please reveiw! And tell me what you thought of it. Muah Muah.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Hell, no.

CHAPTER 6

It was the very next morning, while she was helping with clearing away the remnants from breakfast, that Hermione found herself being accosted by Mrs. Weasley.

"Dear, do you think I could have moment with you?" The bright smile on Ron's Mum's face belied her intentions, Hermione could see it in the tightening of the corners of her mouth. Then again, Hermione _had_ always been exceptionally good at reading people.

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley. What's the matter?" she asked cautiously, although giving no sign that she knew what this was probably about.

"Well, I've been hearing bits and pieces of news from Ron, and he was telling me that the three of you-- you, Harry, and Ron-- plan to drop out of Hogwarts and go off on... well, he called it a _mission_--" here, Mrs. Weasley gave a poorly disguised scoff. "Anyway, I was telling him that there was no way Hermione, of all people, could do anything as stupid as abandon her education to go off on an adventure, but he told me to ask you about it, and I said I would. Well?"

Hermione almost grinned, she could picture what the conversation between Ron and his Mum must've been like... "I don't believe a word of it,"... "Fine, Mum, just ask Hermione if you don't believe me!"... "All right, then, I WILL ask Hermione."... "Wait, Mum, I didn't mean that--" and so on.

Mrs. Weasley was still looking at her expectantly; Hermione shook herself out of her reverie.

"Well, it's true, actually..."

"What? But what could you possibly do, going off by yourselves like that?" asked Mrs. Weasley incredulously. "It's ridiculous. I shan't allow it."

"Ron and I are of age now, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione gently, "And Harry will be in a couple of days. Dumbledore gave us this mission, we have to fulfil our word to him, you know..."

"Yes, that's what Ron seemed to think, too," snapped Mrs. Weasley. But when she spoke next, her tone turned from waspish to mournful. "Why are the three of you always so sure you can save the world? Why can't you take the backseat for a bit and let older, more experienced people take charge? Everything isn't your responsibility, you have to understand that!"

"But that's the thing, isn't it, Mrs. Weasley?" sighed Hermione. "Everything _is_ our responsibility..."

"Of course it isn't." Mrs. Weasley sounded more like her brisk self this time. "You three are just in a hurry to grow up too fast, and get out there and fight. I quite understand. But you can't. You may be of age, but you're still quite young--"

"Mrs. Weasley, we're going to go off on our mission because Dumbledore asked us too. It's quite necessary for us to succeed, if You-Know-Who's ever to be defeated. I know you can't possibly understand, and it makes things doubly difficult that Dumbledore asked us not to tell anyone anything about it, but we will have to go. There's no other option."

Mrs. Weasley sighed and looked at her. "That's how things stand, then, is it?"

"Yes, that _is_ how things stand."

Mrs. Weasley gave a her resigned look, but Hermione was not at all sure that this was going to be her last attempt at stopping them from going on their hunt for the Horcruxes. She went out of the kitchen, and saw a flesh coloured string hanging down from the stairs. She grinned and looked up, Ron and Fred were standing on the landing, grinning at her. Ron flashed her a thumbs-up.

After lunch that afternoon, Order members began arriving at the Burrow. Remus and Tonks (who were, Hermione learnt, newly married) came by Foo Powder, Mundungus Fletcher appeared at the front gate, Mad-Eye moody apparated outside the house, so did Kingley Shacklebolt. Hagrid, who couldn't apparate, and was too big to fit into a fireplace, arrived on a large flying motorcycle, which Hermione was sure had broken the International Statute of Secrecy more than a couple of times. They discussed their plan a few times, until everyone was sure they knew what they had to do. Ginny tried to sneak into their meeting, but was caught by an irate Molly Weasley, and taken to her room, yelling indignantly. After that, they set off for Harry's aunt and uncle's house, on broomsticks and thestrals that Hagrid had brought along with him from Hogwarts.

You're going to be all right, then?" Ron asked her as she was getting on her thestral (she wasn't too keen on flying a broomstick; Ron, on the other hand was absolutely confident, and looked rather sexy on his Cleansweep).

"I suppose," Hermione said nervously.

"Don't worry," said Ron, "They're easy to ride, thestrals. Don't lurch about, or anything. And, well , if you fall--"

"What? Do you know a spell that I could use not to hit the ground too hard?"

Ron looked at her oddly. "Well, I was going to say, I'll catch you," he said, and kicked off into the air before she could say another word.

It was simply lovely to see Harry again. He looked even taller than he had last year, now only three inches or so shorter than Ron, who towered over everybody in their company, with the exception of Hagrid and Mad-Eye. Bill was the same height as him, of course. They had a joyous reunion, but there wasn't any time to really catch up, Mad-Eye wanted them all moving at once. Hermione took Harry flavoured Polyjuice Potion, as did five other people. It felt weird, being a boy. Hermione didn't dwell on it, she didn't really want to much, it was too creepy.

She was assigned to Kingsley for the journey back, and she was very grateful, Kingsley was very reliable. All at once, they took off, the seven Harry Potters and their companions. The wind caused Hermione's short black fringe to fall her in the face and tickle her eyes more than once. She shivered from the cold.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the worst happened.

They were surrounded by people in black robes, hooded to hide their faces, an added bonus to their already sinister forms. A hex hit her thestral; it lurched sharply. Hermione screamed. Her scream seemed to bring all her companions out of their shocked stupor; Kingsley pointed his wand and shouted "Protego Totalus!" As his sheild broke out above them, Hermione caught her thestral around the neck tightly, her stomach doing somersaults. She felt sick, but knew she had to pull herself together; projectile-vomiting on the Death Eaters might help things a little, but not much.

Instead, she kept her wand at the ready, sure that Kingsley's sheild would be broken in a moment or two. She was right; soon, a particularly strong purple hex shattered the sheild completely. Steeling herself, Hermione aimed and shouted, "_Corrosis! Disicesa! Petrificus Totalus!" _Curse after curse, hex after hex flew out of her mouth and hit the black cloaked individuals, the long days she had put into learning and practising them paying off marvellously.

"Very good, Hermione!" Kingsley encouraged her, sending out streams of lethal spells himself. He used Avada Kedavra itself twice, but both tries missed their target. A blue spell missed Hermione by inches, another one hit her, and Hermione felt an invisible hand grab her throat. Gagging and coughing, she writhed and tried to pry it off, but her fingers could feel nothing but her own skin. Her surroundings began to go black; just in time, she dimly heard Kingsley yell out the countercurse, and things came back into her focus. Kingsley opened another sheild charm to give her time to recover. Hermione looked around, they were surrounded by Death Eaters. She steeled herself, gearing up for another bout of dueling; to her surprise, they suddenly changed direction and started to move off away. Nonplussed, Hermione looked at Kingsley.

"They think they know who the real Harry is..." Kingsley said softly.

"WHAT?" yelled Hermione frantically. "We've got to get to him, Kingsley, we've got to stop them--"

"We have to get you to safety," said Kingsley firmly. "No, don't argue. You've had enough for a day. We've got to get you back now. Don't worry, Harry'll be perfectly safe with Hagrid, you know he'd die for Harry..."

"But I don't want Hagrid to die." whispered Hermione, and then she really did vomit.

The rest of the evening was horrible. Mad-Eye was gone, and George had escaped so narrowly, Hermione could hardly bear to think about it. Ron had returned so late, Hermione almost broke down while waiting for him. It was a subdued company that ate dinner in the Burrow's kitchen that evening, before turning in for bed.

A/N: That was my first attempt at an action scene, tell me what you thought. A hearty thanks to all who have reveiwed so far, of course; you know how much I love you! And to those who haven't, please, PLEASE do reveiw!! You have no idea how much it means to me!!

Much love,

me.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I don't own Harry Potter.

CHAPTER 7

Hermione woke up with a groan. Her head hurt, she registered dimly. It _pounded_, rather. What on earth was wrong with her? Slowly and painfully, she remembered the previous night. Mad-Eye. George's ear. Ron, almost making her collapse with worry. All that _bloody_ Firewhiskey.

Of course, that had to be it. Her first time _ever_ having drunk Firewhisky, and she'd consumed at least three glasses. Her stomach lurched. She hadn't much left in it to throw up, but she got up, head spinning, and rushed to the bathroom anyway. Once she got there, however, she didn't puke; instead, she held her head under a cold stream of water for a minute or two. Finally, when her brain felt decidedly less foggy, she emerged. Taking in a few deep breaths, she remembered the finer details of last night. Harry had tried to blame himself, as usual. He'd even tried to leave; thankfully, the Weasleys had managed to talk him out of that. For the moment at least.

Remus, Kingsley, and Bill had gone out to retreive Mad-Eye's body, but had returned without it.

Ginny had cried quietly in bed for the second time since Harry had broken up with her, and Hermione had pretended not to hear; she knew Ginny didn't like being spotted crying. She was a very strong little person.

And then there had been Ron.

He couldn't begin to imagine, she knew, exactly _how_ distraught Hemione had been when he was taking so long to return. George had come back without an ear, and Hermione's imagination had supplied her with all sorts of worse things that could have happened to Ron.

She hadn't got a chance to talk to him much the moment he'd returned, but she'd managed to find her opportunity a bit further into the proceedings, when Harry was deep in conversation with Remus and Kingsley, and Ginny was talking to Tonks. She'd found herself on the sofa with Ron, and she'd said, softly: "Ron, I was really worried about you."

Ron had looked mildly pleased as he sipped his Firewhiskey.

"I was all right, of course I was," he'd said. "I was looking for you, in case they'd cornered you or something."

"Very funny. I can take as good care of myself as anybody else, Ron."

"That isn't the point," said Ron, strangley more lucid that usual under the influence of Firewhiskey. "I had to know you were safe."

"Why?" Hemione had asked him, the alcohol making her feel strangely warm, or was it the way Ron had been looking at her? His eyes had been dark, intense even, and he had looked at her almost hungrily.

"Because if you weren't, I don't know what I'd've done, but I'm pretty sure the Death Eaters wouldn't have liked it." Then he'd downed the rest of the Firewhiskey and got a fit of the hiccups, which had compelled him to get up and go get a drink of water (Fred and George had helped by giving him large, painful thumps on the back) and when he'd come back, the moment had passed. It was such a typically Ronlike thing to do, that Hermione smiled at the memory. The rest of the evening, they'd talked about Harry, about the Horcruxes, and about how to tell him the things they'd done in preperation for their trip. Harry himself had come to sit with them after a while, and told them about how Dudley had tried to act a little civil, and shaken his hand and everything. They'd laughed, the three of them, like the trio they were, the trio they'd always be no matter what happened or who fell in love with whom. In a fit of sudden affection, Hermione had pulled both Harry and Ron into a hug, and apart from their sudden surprise, they'd hugged her back, and each other as well. They'd sat like that until Fred and George had come up to comment on how touching it was and how big ickle Ronnie and his friends had grown.

Hermione got ready slowly, until she realised she was a witch, and moreover, of age. She flicked her wand over herself, and her head cleared magically, leaving her fresh.

When she went downstairs, she found out that Mrs. Weasley already had Fleur and Bill's wedding preperations in full swing. There was cleaning to be done, rooms to be emptied and made habitable, camp beds to be set up and a LOT of de-gnoming to be done in the backyard, where the wedding itself was to take place. Hermione found that she had no time to talk to Ron or Harry, and soon she realised that Mrs. Weasley had engineered it that way, so that the trio would not be able to plan their departure. She said as much to Ron, as she passed him on the way to the hen coop; he winked and nodded.

"We're going to have to find a way out of this one, now," he said. "The moment you have a bit of free time, come up to my room to see if I'm there." Hemione nodded.

"Tell Harry," she said.

"Obviously." with a snort, he went on his way. Hermione didn't know what to make of that, and by the end of the day, she didn't care, she was that tired. She had been made to do laundry, and an idea had struck her; if there was any need for a quick getaway, they had to be ready. With that in mind, she slipped a few of Harry and Ron's clothes, (the ones that had just been washed, Hermione was very particular about that), into a bag that she made bigger from inside with magic.

The next few days went much the same way, until, finally, Mrs. Weasley slipped up and told her to change the sheets in all the rooms on the same day that she told Ron to clean his room. After finishing every other room, Hermione slipped into his with the eventual intent of changing his sheets.

"Oi!" said Ron, jumping off his bed and dropping a Martin Miggs comic and several other things that had taken up permanent residence on his bed, on the ground in the process. "It's you," he breathed, relief evident on his face.

"Why, who'd you think it was?" smirked Hermione, as Ron picked up his things.

"MUM, who else?" said Ron. "She's been driving me completely bonkers!"

"She's just busy and anxious," offered Hermione.

"She's becoming a right nutter," said Ron darkly. "What's she kept _you _at all day, then?"

"I shone silver in the morning, polished wood in the afternoon, and it's bedsheets now, that's why I'm in here, to change the ones on your bed."

"Oh, _that's_ why you're here," said Ron, sounding a little disgruntled. "Well, do what you have to and go on your merry way then, will you? I have stuff to do."

"Oh yeah?" said Hermione. "What stuff? Catching up with how Martin Miggs killed You-Know-Who, are you?"

Ron's ears went pink.

"Don't want to keep you from your chores too long, that's all," he muttered.

"I'm here to see YOU, you stupid git," said Hermione, smiling as she walked right in and sat down on the floor near his bed, leaning against the wall. "The bedsheets are just my excuse,"

"Oh," said Ron, turning, if possible, even pinker, his ears brick-coloured. "Well, you don't have to sit down there, you know, you can sit up here..." he patted the spot on the bed next to him. Hermione had to marvel; six months ago, it probably wouldn't even have occurred to him to check whether she was comfortable or not.

"I like it here on the floor," said Hermione, stretching out. "You should join me,"

"I'd rather not, thanks," said Ron, grinning. "So, how are you?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, bemused.

"Nothing, we just haven't really got to talk to each other much since we brought Harry here,"

"Aaah, that. Well, I'm fine, Ron, what about you?"

"I dunno..." he said seriously. "Things are so surreal these days. I hardly believe anything's really happening, sometimes, y'know?"

"I know," sighed Hermione. "I keep wondering how this is going to go, whether we're going to find any Horcruxes at all..."

"Don't worry," Ron said bracingly. "Harry'll have a plan, he always has one."

"I hope so," said Hermione.

"And if not, hell," Ron went on, "We'll have each other to fall back upon, won't we?"

"Yes, we will," agreed Hermione, smiling despite herself.

"Yeah, I'll always be there to make you laugh or annoy you or distract you somehow from the trials of life, and you'll always be there to bail me out of any situation I need bailing out from, right? You will, won't you?" he added, uncertainly, looking as though worried that he had gone too far.

"Of course I will, Ron," said Hermione, smiling. Ron grinned back; they were smling at each other comfortably, and Hermione was just beginning to get the familiar butterflies in her stomach, when they heard someone outside Ron's room.

"Mum!" whispered Ron in a panic, and then he yelled, "I'm doing it, I'm doing-- oh it's you,"

Harry walked in.

A/N: you know what happens next, so yeah. Tell me what you thought. All my love to everyone who's reveiwed this far!

Cheers.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Yeah, if it were mine, _na_... I'd be getting money for this. And it would be on paper. So no. It isn't mine.

CHAPTER 8

"Pink. PINK. I _hate _her."

"It's a _nice_ shade..."

"PINK, Hermione. Have you _any_ idea what that's going to look like with my hair?"

"Well, it'll clash a little, but on the whole..."

"I HATE HER. I'm going to change its colour, so help me."

"You're still underage, Ginny."

"Then _you_ do it for me."

"Oh no, no, no. Fleur will kill me, and I really think I ought to stay alive a bit longer."

"Arghghgh! I hate her! Would it kill her to make it blue? Green?"

"I think it's perfectly lovely.. and the cut's brilliant, Ginny."

"It's loose. And dowdy. And... I hate it. Arghgh, Hermione!!"

Hermione smiled sympathetically. She knew Ginny wanted to look ravishing, wanted to give Harry something to remember her by. She winced as she remembered the day before. Ginny had called Harry into her room for a bit. Hermione had led Ron up the stairs; she wanted to give them a bit of time together, and of course, she simply loved being alone with Ron. But Ron hadn't been able to concentrate, and, a minute later, jumped up to get Harry out of his little sister's room, despite Hermione's shrill warnings. he'd caught them snogging passionately, and hadn't been pleased.

"What're you wearing, anyway?" Ginny's voice broke into her thoughts. "At least you get to choose your own clothes..."

Hermione remembered the dress her mother had given her before she'd had her memory modified.

"This lilac dress of my Mum's... it's a muggle thing, though, and old fashioned. I'll have to transform it a bit, I expect."

"Show me, then, I could help." said Ginny.

"Ginny, you have a brother's wedding to get ready for!"

"Yeah, so? So do you! Just show it to me, Hermione."

Hermione could tell that Ginny was feeling disgruntled and rebellious. However, she knew that it wasn't wise to cross her in such a mood unless one wanted giant bat bogeys flapping around in their wake. She pointed a wand at her trunk and summoned the dress.

"Wow..." said Ginny. "What a colour... that's pretty, Hermione. And it'll look so lovely with your eyes.."

"You sound like your Mum everytime she gifts Harry a sweater," Hermione told her, and they both laughed.

"No, seriously, I could help you transform it, if you want. You know I'm better at girly spells than you are."

"You are not!" Hermione said indignantly. "What's more, your underage!"

"Well, everybody else in this house is of age. Who's to say _you_ didn't do the magic? I don't think the Ministry have enough time to be inestigating this right now. Snickering good naturedly, Ginny held out her hand. Hermione handed her the dress. Ginny shook it out and looked at it; waving her wand over certain places, she began to make alterations. When she was finished, she threw it back to Hermione, saying, "Here, try it now and show me." Hermione took her top off and pulled the dress on.

"What do you think?" she asked nervously. Ginny beamed.

"It's perfect. If that doesn't make Ron sit up, I don't know what will." Somehow this made Hermione even more nervous, she went slowly to the full length mirror in Ginny's room. She looked at herself. The dress itself was beyond recognition. The long sleeves were now straps, and the neckline plunged more than Hermione would have liked. It had also become more body-hugging, and brought out every curve in Hermione's figure. In fact, it didn't look as though it had ever belonged to her mother at all. Hermione shook her head. She waved her wand so that the straps were broadened, and brought the neckline back to its original sweep from one shoulder to another. It wasn't sexy, sure, but her mum had said that it would make her neck look longer, and it did.

"But dear, you looked ravishing in the deeper cut," the mirror said in a distressed tone of voice.

"That wasn't me," Hermione told it. Ginny grinned at her.

"Damn, you really should start being a bit more adventurous, Hermione." she said. "That cut would have made Ron's eyes pop out and fall down."

"Make yourself useful and give me some jewellery." said Hermione. "And what have you been doing to your bridesmade's dress now?"

"Well," said Ginny wickedly, "I refuse to go down without a fight, so I've pushed my neckline down at lease four inches lower than it was."

"You have six older brothers who'd like it if you wore overalls for the rest of your life," warned Hermione.

"Yeah, but when have I ever listened to any of them? Except BIll himself, and he'll probably be too busy."

Shaking her head with amusement, Hermione resumed getting dressed.

When they were finally ready, Hermione went to welcome the first guests, leaving Ginny to get instructions from Fleur. As she approached Herry and Ron near the gate, ROn looked up at her.

"Wow..." he said, like he couldn't restrain himself. The look in his eyes, of admiration, and embarrassment, and that familiar hunger that Hermione still wasn't sure she wasn't imagining, was enough to make her breath slightly short.

"You look great," he added, as she reached next to them.

"Always the tone of surprise," she said, not bothering to hide the meaningful note in her voice. Afer all, hadn't he said the exact same thing to her a few days ago? Ron grinned sheepishly, his ears brick red. A little later, Fred and George joined them. During talking, Viktor krum showed up. Hermione was so surprised, she shreiked. She had no idea he'd be here. They greeted each other excitedly, and Ron looked so disgruntled that Hermione felt a thrill go up and down her spine. Pretty soon, it was time for the ceremony.

It was simply beautiful, Hermione couldn't keep herself from shedding a copious amount of tears.Ron put his arm lightly around her, beaming himself.

After the ceremony, Viktor came to sit with them. Ron promptly asked Hermione to dance, and Hermione silently blessed Viktor. Due to him, Hermione was actually dancing in the arms of Ron Wealey, the person she loved most in the world.

He put his arms around her waist, and she reciprocated with hers around his neck.They swayed, Hermione closing her eyes.

"Hermione,"

"Yes?"

"Nothing," he said, and began to hum and dance nonchalantly.

They danced together all night.

It wa only during the walk just before dinner that Ron said, "Promise me you won't die."

"What? Go on, promise."

"I can't promise not to die, Ron, don't be ridiculous."

"You can. See, Hermione," his voice got really serious. "Harry needs to save the world. You need to save Harry. I'm the least important.. If you're going to die, Hermione, let me go in your place."

"RON," Hermione said firmly. "Shut up. You are most certainly NOT he least important, I don't think I'd know how to laugh at all, if it weren't for you..." She trailed off, took his hands, and looked up into his eyes. This was it. She'd kiss him, and then, he'd know. She began shakily.

"Ron, I..."

"Ron? RON???" Charlie was looking for Ron, Hermione hastily let go. Maybe some other time.

A/N: I love you, reveiwers!! Well, this should be the last one, except for the epilogue I've planned.

Ciao.


	9. epilogue

Disclaimer: no, I'm not rich, famous, OR awesomely awesome. Boo.

EPILOGUE

Monica Wilkins sat down in front of the TV. It had been a year since she had moved to Australia with her husband. A very odd year.

She rubbed her forehead.

Her husband, Wendell, was away at work, at the export firm that had hired him. She couldn't wait for him to get back. She'd got back from her own work, accounting, a while ago. On her way back, she'd dug in her handbag for a pen, and found a photograph instead. A photograph that _moved_. And, after her first reaction, which was one of complete shock, she found that she wasn't as flabbergasted as she might be.

There were three people in the photo. Two boys, one with black hair and green eyes, and one red-haired one with a whole lot of freckles and bright blue eyes. They looked about fourteen. In between them was a girl, with long bushy brown hair and brown eyes, who seemed the same age. She was laughing, and she kept glancing up at the red haired boy when he wasn't looking, and he'd glance down at her when she looked away. Every so often, they'd have an eyelock, blush furiously, and look away. The boy with the black hair, Monica noticed, was looking quietly amused. But Monica was more interested in the girl, firstly because, for some reason, she felt a queer ache whenever she looked at her, and secondly because there was no denying that she looked exactly like Monica's husband, Wendell.

It was very curious.

This wasn't the first thing that had sorly confused the Wilkins' in the past year. There had been numerous little things... Wendell had been having queer headaches and dreams, Monica missed her favourite pair of shoes, and she couldn't remember what she'd done with them, except that maybe she'd lent them to someone back in England, someone whose name began with an 'H'. The scariest was that when she and Wendell had sat down to try to make sense of it, they'd realized that they were missing a chunk of memory at least seventeen years long! They couldn't remember a thing after the first year of their marriage, and they were seriously beginning to wonder if they'd been abducted by aliens or something, and were seriously considering hypnosis...

The doorbell rang.

"Wendell!" said Monica softly, and went to open it. Outside were standing three young people, the very people from the moving snapshot. Monica clutched at the door handle as everything around her began to go dark.

"Mum!" shrieked Hermione as she, along with Harry and Ron, hastened to hold up Hermione's mother, who had fainted.

"It's all right, 'Mione, she's just fainted..." said Ron, reassuringly. Ever since Ron and Hermione had made their relationship official, Ron had taken to calling Hermione ''Mione', an endearment he came up with himself. Harry and Ginny had pretended to gag everytime they heard it for the first week or two, but now they were used to it, although Harry still always felt himself smiling wrily when he heard it.

They laid Mrs. Granger on the sofa, and Hermione, conjuring a wet sponge out of thin air, proceeded to wipe her mother's face with it.

"Why don't you just enervate her-" began Ron, but he stopped as Harry gave him a meaningful look.

"Mum..." whimpered Hermione, threading her fingers through her mum's thick brown hair, so like her own, but tamer, while she sponged her forehead. Mrs. Granger's eyes fluttered.

"Mum?" said Hermione hopefully. Mrs. Granger's eyes shot open, and she gazed at them, terror evident upon her face.

"Who are you?" she hissed, as she tried to sit up.

"I... I'm Hermione," gulped Hermione sadly.

"Her-hermione..." muttered Mrs. Granger. "Did I ever lend you my high heeled shoes?" she asked, her eyes moving quickly back to her face. Hermione nodded, tears now streaming down her face.

"Wendell will be here..." said Mrs. Granger distractedly as she stood up. "You talk to him..."

"Hermione, now would be a good time," Harry advised her. Hermione nodded, and with a determined look on her face, she raised her wand. She muttered the countercharm to the spell she'd put on her mum. Mrs. Granger's eyes rolled back in her head, as she waded through a sudden splash of seventeen years of lost memories... alll with Hermione in them... crawling... laughing... receiving a letter from Wizard School... becoming prefect... being affectionate...

Again Mrs. Granger collapsed. Hermione let a out a tiny sob.

But this time, when she opened her eyes, she had the old spark back in them.

"Hermione?" she said cautiously, and Hermione flung herself on her, crying. Mrs. Granger hugged her back.

"I missed you so much..." said Hermione in a muffled voice.

"I..." began Mrs. Granger, but she stopped. She hadn't missed Hermione, how could she have? She hadn't even _known_ Hermione!

"What did you do to your father and me, eh?" she said sternly? "Worked some of your stuff on us, did you?"

Hermione sobbed harder, and Mrs. Granger held her tight.

"Monica Wilkins!" she scoffed. "What sort of name is _Monica Wilkins_? I feel like a receptionist!" She felt Hermione giggle. Slowly she looked around. Harry and Ron. _Of course!_ How_ could_ she have forgotten? She held out her hands to them, Hermione still draped around her.

"And how are you two?" she said, grabbing a hand each. They grinned at her. Such nice boys. Hermione had wonderful taste when it came to friends. Memories were still flooding her brain, trickling in and filling niches and holes that she couln't beleive she'd forgotten were there. And one prompted her to say: "So, was my lilac dress effective?"

Hermione looked up at her and smiled.

"Tell her, Ron," she said softly.

Ron, who seemed to understand her perfectly, said: "Actually, Mrs. Granger, I loved your daughter long before I saw her in the lilac dress." He put his arm around Hermione fondly. Mrs. Granger looked from her to him.

"So, you're together now?" she asked.

"We're together now," beamed Hermione. Mrs. Granger inhaled deeply.

"Well, now," she said, at a loss for words. She felt as though she was waking up after a long nap.

The doorbell rang again.

"That'll be your father," said Mrs. Granger, getting up unsteadily. Harry and Ron rushed to give her support. "Well, he's going to get quite a surprise! We have so much to catch up on, my dears..."

With that, she tottered to the door.

END

A/N: And that, my friends, is that! Sorry it took so long, but MAN has life these past two weeks been hectic, or WHAT!! Well, love to the reveiwers, and blessings on those who reveiw this last time!


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